


Flash of silver

by epersonae



Series: Family of Silver [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angus McDonald is Baby!Magcretia, But Angus is not, Draconic Bloodline Sorcerers, Gen, Grandpa is a Silver Dragon, Silver Dragon AU, Toddler sorcerer?!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epersonae/pseuds/epersonae
Summary: This is Angus McDonald's first memory. A cave, a flash of ice, a flash of silver.





	Flash of silver

**Author's Note:**

> I asked folks if they wanted more in the same setting as [a silvered wing with which to fly](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12778140), and that was answered in the affirmative, so it's been in the back of my head while working on other things. Then this morning I listened to the Lunar Interlude where Taako teaches Angus wizardry, and I thought about the uncontrolled nature of sorcery. There might be more in this vein coming, but here's a start.

This is Angus McDonald's first memory. 

He's in a cave, which when he thinks back on it, doesn't make any sense. He's always lived in the tidy little house in Neverwinter. He's never been up into the mountains, just taken trains through them. 

But he's in a cave, walking on little unsteady legs behind Grandpa. He wants to touch things, to play with the gems, to grab at the statues. But he's a good little boy and Grandpa said not to touch. 

There's a flash of movement high up on the cave wall, then it jumps, and he sees something moving amidst the stacked furniture and tapestries. He's scared, so scared he can't say anything. It's big, whatever it is. He points his fat little finger, trembling. 

“Go ‘way!” and in his memory it’s a shout, but in reality it’s a sound barely above a whisper. At the same time, a white-blue light shoots from his fingertip, freezing everything in its path. (His hand is for just second the same silvery color and rough, bumpy.)

In the cave, among the piled treasure, something moves and then is still. He never does find out what it is: some small denizen of unattended caves, perhaps a spider? A carrion crawler?

Grandpa whirls around, shouts his name. For a second, Angus remembers, there’s a flash of teeth? Scales? A sense of enormity, something much larger than himself. But he’s such a tiny boy, everything is large to him then. And it’s just for a moment: then Grandpa has grabbed him up into his arms, and he’s crying, and Grandpa is hushing him.

“When you see something scary, you need to use your words, little Angus. Not your….” Grandpa sighs. “Alright, let’s get you back to the parlor.” There’s a murmuring, and that’s all he remembers. After that is sleep, a good nap for a good little boy.


End file.
